| F |
| I am just a poor boy |
| Dm | |
| Though my story's seldom | told |
| C | |
| I have | squandered my resistance |
| C7 | F | |
| For a | pocketful of mumbles such are | promises |
| Dm | |
| All lies and | jest |
| C | Bb | |
| Still a | man hears what he | wants to hear |
| F | C | Bb | Am7 | F | |
| And disregards the | rest, | hm | hm | hm |
| F |
| When I left my home and my family |
| Dm | |
| I was no more than a | boy |
| C | |
| In the | company of strangers |
| C7 | F | |
| In the | quiet of a railway station | running scared |
| Dm | C | Bb | |
| Laying | low, seeking | out the poorer | quarters |
| F | |
| Where the ragged people | go |
| C | Bb | Am7 | F | |
| Looking | for the places | only | they would | know |
| Dm | C | Dm | |
| Lie la | lie lie la | lie la lie la lie lie la | lie |
| C | Bb | F | |
| lie la | lie la lie la | lie la la la la | lie |
| F |
| Asking only workman′s wages |
| Dm | |
| I come looking for a | job |
| C | |
| But I get no | offers |
| C7 | F | |
| Just a | come-on from the whores on Seventh | Avenue |
| Dm | C | Bb | |
| I do de | clare there were | times when I was | so lonesome |
| F | C7 | |
| I took some comfort | there |
| (instr) |
| Dm | C | Dm | |
| Lie la | lie lie la | lie la lie la lie lie la | lie |
| C | Bb | F | |
| lie la | lie la lie la | lie la la la la | lie |
| F |
| Now the years are rolling by me |
| Dm | |
| They are rocking | evenly |
| C | |
| I am older than I | once was |
| C7 | F | |
| And | younger than I'll be, | that's not unusual |
| Dm | C | Bb | |
| It isn′t | strange after | changes upon | changes |
| F | |
| We are more or less the | same |
| C | Bb | Am7 | F | |
| After | changes we are | more or | less the | same |
| F |
| Then I′m laying out my winter clothes |
| Dm | C | |
| And wishing I was | gone, going | home |
| C7 | F | |
| Where the | New York City winters aren't | bleeding me |
| Em | Fm | Fm | |
| Leading | me, | going home |
| F |
| In the clearing stands a boxer |
| Dm | |
| And a fighter by his | trade |
| C | |
| And he | carries the reminders |
| C7 | |
| Of | every glove that laid him down |
| F | |
| And | cut him ′til he cried out |
| Dm | |
| In his anger and his | shame |
| C7 | Bb | |
| "I am | leaving, I am | leaving" |
| F | F | C | Bb | Am7 | F | |
| But the | fighter still re | mains, | hm | hm | hm |
| Dm | C | Dm | |
| Lie la | lie lie la | lie la lie la lie lie la | lie |
| C | Bb | F | |
| lie la | lie la lie la | lie la la la la | lie |